Dead Man's Party
by ariviand
Summary: Alec and Magnus meet at the "Dead Man's Party" in City of Bones. Cooperative fic with Miyabita.
1. Door

_So it's official: the Mortal Instruments and I have been going steady for one month, at least in fan fiction form. Writing here has been a lot like dating – with all of the benfits, and none of the annoying drawbacks (well, except for lack of sleep and having my updates eaten. That was pretty annoying). It's been exciting having someone to sneak away and "talk" to at work, someone to look forward to coming home to at night, someone to enact fantasies with…the T-rated kind, anyway. _

_To mark this very important milestone, I'm posting a new story. It's a cooperative fic. Yaya! That's right, I finally found someone willing to write with me. Still crying to coax her into posting something entirely her own here, but I think she still needs some encouragement. Please review and help me persuade the girl that we want to read more!_

_My co-author **Miyabita **contributed all of the excerpts from Alec's POV, as well as the initial idea for the story. She's also been the responsible driver, trying to steer us in the right direction. _

_I wrote Magnus's POV, did the final proof reading, and have the pleasure of posting this love child. _

_Please let me know what you think! I promise I haven't abandoned my other projects – Chapter 53 of Call Me is in the works. Still brainstorming for CCHS, and I'm going to hold off on Between Burroughs until Call Me has officially ended. A sad day for all! Sniff._

_This story takes place kind of two or three scenes before the beginning of Call Me. The first real meeting between Magnus and Alec. We only got to see Clary's view of the visit to the "Dead Man's Party". And that's not fair for true Malec fans, is it? I say no. We need more! _

_All characters, story, name of this FF (borrowed from the name of Ch. 12 in City of Bones), and use of occasional dialogue all credited to Cassandra Clare - without whom I would be single and very sad. THANK YOU!_

* * *

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

The Downworlder was covered in _glitter_.

Alec wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he'd read the invitation Izzy had showed him. Magnus Bane. The name itself conjured images in Alec's head of a slightly portly, possibly older man with graying hair. Pompous, arrogant... throwing some "classy Downworlder party". After all, the invitation had used more adjectives and curlicues than Alec thought was healthy for a piece of paper to hold.

The _real_ Magnus Bane, however...?

He looked up at the man he was currently trailing up the stairs. (What were the others doing mingling at the bottom of the staircase, anyway? Was he the only one with a sense of decorum?) Magnus was absolutely nothing like Alec had imagined. Thin, tall, and, tan. Confidence and pride seemed to exude from his very fingertips. And glitter. Alec was sure the man was shedding it as he walked up the stairs.

Alec shoved his hands in his pockets. it wasn't so much the glitter he wore, but the way in which he wore it. In fact, Alec was fairly certain he had never seen a man wear so much makeup before. (Well, there was that one time Max had broken into Izzy's makeup cabinet when he was little, but that was different.) Appearance meant very little to Alec; it always had. But there was something about Magnus, about the way he held himself, the way he talked, the way his eyes unabashedly looked both him and Jace up and down - _by the Angel, had he blushed_? - that made him want to stare.

They had reached the doorway to Magnus's apartment now, and Alec took a peak over his shoulder, noting that the others were well behind him. He scowled. Clary. It looked like that girl and that stupid mundane - _what was his name... Steve_? - were holding up the process.

"Coming?"

Alec jumped a little at the nearness of the voice, and he turned back around, surprised to see Magnus perched in the doorway, looking at _him_. Again, he was struck by the very appearance of the man before him.

He nodded his head at Magnus and brushed past him, shaking the bangs from his eyes as he entered. He'd never been to a Downworlder party before. It was... reminiscent of those mundie clubs... but with less flashing lights and headache inducing music and... well, _Downworlders_. Alec felt slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of them in the room. He was sure he stood out like a sore thumb... not that it mattered, really. Hopefully, Jace would ask whatever he needed of Magnus and they'd be on their way--

For the second time that night, Alec jumped. He'd just been... he'd just been...

Someone had pinched his ass!

He rounded on the culprit, unconsciously fingering the stele in his pocket.

"I thought I said to keep it in your pants, Shadowhunter," a voice called from behind him. Alec turned away from the male phouka who was eyeing him a little too intently and towards the other man behind him - Magnus Bane. He felt his face go red as Magnus's words sunk in. (He had always blushed too easily; wasn't there a rune to stop that?) On any normal night, the words wouldn't have mattered to Alec. But a phouka had just groped him and now Magnus Bane, who glittered and exuded confidence and _clearly didn't have a problem with his sexuality,_ was making references that could be interpreted as... as...

Alec suddenly wished for Jace's quick retorts or Isabelle's ability to laugh anything off... or even Max's ability to seemingly go anywhere without being noticed... Instead, he had none of those talents, and the only thing he could think of was that he really, _really_ hated Brooklyn.


	2. DropIns

**Magnus POV** (ariviand)

Magnus was fairly sure he hadn't invited any Shadowhunters to the party. Strictly speaking, the invitations were meant to be circulated among fellow Downworlders in the area – if word of mouth didn't do the trick. Usually his phone was all-abuzz after a new party was announced.

Then again, slips of paper had a way of falling into the lap of strangers. Kind of like the unattractive side-effects of one-night stands.

So someone was passing out the invites like candy. Or in this case, whatever would attract a small group of teenage Shadowhunters.

Then again, a party hosted by a warlock in the privacy of his own home, sure to be featuring an assortment of Downworlders – that might be temptation enough. His initial suspicion had been that this might be some form of raid. A shake down, if you will. They were hoping to bust one of his guests – catch them in the act of an illegal transaction?

But then he had probably been watching too much CrimeTV. Something about men in uniform, wielding night sticks and handcuffs just had a way of holding his interest.

Hm. Maybe he would use that as inspiration for his next party.

Tonight, he had promised a "rapturous evening of delights beyond your wildest imagination". Of course, that was all well and good on paper, but not all plans had a way of panning out exactly as one might hope. The music, for example, wasn't exactly the mood he had been going for. But the refreshments didn't disappoint.

Magnus had been thinking something tantric. He was going through a Bollywood phase – and had briefly considered hanging colorful silk along the walls and over the furniture, burning incense. Spicy finger foods, a proper belly dancer. Not worth doing, if not done right.

But then again, what was the point of a true themed party, if the target audience couldn't appreciate it? The flat inevitably took some damage with every showing, and it would be a shame to watch fine silk go to ruin. Better to gut the place out for the night and rely on escapism via enchanted drinks. No elaborate decorations necessary.

If the Shadowhunters made a ruin of his party, it would be beyond irritating. He had a reputation to uphold, and having law-abiding, demon-hunting crashers around didn't bode well for PR. It wasn't just the late night parties, after all. He also worked from home. And word would travel fast through the network that Magnus Bane, the Magnificent High Warlock of Brooklyn, was working with Shadowhunters. Like a snitch.

It was understood, the rules of the game – stay within the law, and stay out of our way, and keep the Shadowhunters at bay. Not that he hadn't worked with their kind in the past. And fought against them. He probably had a pretty thick file with the local Institute. Did they keep tabs on him? Magnus didn't doubt it.

He hoped it made for an excellent read.

The questions mounted as he led the children of the Nephilim (and mundane) up the rickety stairs leading to his apartment. He could hear their quiet conversation behind him, amused by it. Didn't they realize he had exceptional hearing?

Magnus was attempting to make them out, just based on first impressions. It was fun, prejudging people and waiting to see if the guesses were at all accurate. He wasn't counting Clary Fray – _that_ wouldn't be playing fair, would it? Since he already knew her story.

But the boy with her, childhood friend? More than friend? He looked like he wanted to be. And the blonde Shadowhunter, smart mouth, shrewd eyes. He looked like he wanted a piece of that too. Sweet Clary pie. Sweet and oblivious.

And the other girl, the one who had flashed the invitation and her pretty teeth, she knew how to dress. And she looked like the only one who had actually come to enjoy the party. Not that he didn't believe for a second that there wasn't an ulterior motive, another agenda behind coming. But at least she looked the part. Kudos for the outfit.

As for the other boy, well, the resemblance with the girl was obvious. The dark hair, the fine features. Something in the curve of his mouth. Except he looked more prone to frowning than smiling. Still, he was gorgeous. No point downplaying that.

And Magnus could feel those stunning, pale eyes staring. Either he didn't realize he was staring, or Shadowhunter manners didn't consider it rude. Magnus considered it a compliment – and he may have been adding a little more flourish to his step than exactly necessarily while the boy trailed behind him.

Not two minutes in the door of the apartment, and the dark-haired boy was being groped by one of his guests. Hmph. Shouldn't that be the pleasure of the host, first pinch?

The look on the Shadowhunter's face was priceless. Magnus almost wished he could reenact it – had made a point of teasing the boy just to see the shock on his face, and watch that pretty blush deepen.

He wasn't disappointed.

Magnus winked after the jibe, wanting him to realize he was kidding. Well, not about the stele. But it wouldn't hurt if the Shadowhunter tried to loosen up. He might even recommend a number of oddly colored drinks to accomplish it—

But he left the boy alone. It was apparent the attention was bothering him. Push too hard, and he might pull out a real weapon and ruin the mood.

Sighing, Magnus turned to Clarissa Fray, striking up conversation. How long had it been since he'd seen her last? He was due another visit.

He kept any recognition from his eyes, talking with her as he would to any unfamiliar guest – while using his comforting, indoor voice, soft and husky: "You like the party?"


	3. Damn

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

Clary. Magnus was talking to Clary. Alec didn't understand what was so interesting about the girl, and he certainly didn't appreciate her sudden presence in his life. Jace acted... different around her, more... animated, a little less edgy. Subtle changes, but ones Alec could clearly see. And while Jace seemed a little happier than normal, Alec couldn't help but grit his teeth every time she was around. He was jealous. He knew he was jealous. He'd never admit it... just like he never had any intention of expressing his feelings to Jace. Clary was upsetting the careful balance he had constructed in his life, and it was driving him crazy.

"We seriously need to take you to more parties." Jace's voice came from behind him, and Alec turned. He then proceeded to do a quick double-take at Jace's newest accessory.

"What is that around your neck?" Jace's smug smirk turned into a full out grin as he picked at the glowing necklace. He shrugged one shoulder.

"Some fairy girl over there gave it to me. I suppose she thought I was attractive."

Oh, he was attractive, all right. Alec frowned. "Don't you think it's unsafe to just wear something that one of the fey gives you?"

"Come on, Alec. Lighten up. It's a party. It's not like anyone's laying in wait for us. Oh, there she is." Jace moved past him then and headed towards the pillar where Clary and Magnus Bane were talking. Alec frowned again, but followed. He had no idea where his sister was, but he supposed going with Jace was better than getting pinched again.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up, noting that Magnus had gone back to leaning against the pillar while Jace and Clary were talking. He didn't seem to be particularly interested in whatever they were talking about. The thought lifted his lips ever-so-slightly; he didn't think Clary was the most interesting person to talk to.

"MAGNUS BANE!" For the third time that night, Alec felt himself jumping again. Jace turned to him and raised an eyebrow but, thankfully, didn't say anything. Magnus, Alec noted, seemed unfazed, and rather bored actually, as the vampire - his fangs had come out in his anger - leveled accusations at the warlock. For the second time that night, Alec marveled at Magnus's utter confidence. Perhaps it came with the name - "High Warlock of Brooklyn" did seem to give off an air of superiority, after all. But, the man just seemed so... so... comfortable. If it had been him, Alec would have probably failed at forming a smart retort and then have threatened the vampire with holy water or something.

Alec's train of thought was once again cut off as the vampire stopped mid-tirade. He watched as Magnus opened his eyes, wide, commanding the vampire to leave. Alec wondered if the sight of Magnus's eyes should have repulsed him.

They didn't.

"That was impressive," Jace said, and Alec knew he meant it. Jace wasn't the kind of person to give out unfounded compliments.

"You mean that little hissy fit? I know. What is her problem?"

It came so suddenly that Alec was caught off guard. Before he knew it, his lips had turned upward in a smile, and he was trying to hold back a laugh - though failing miserably. Jace gave him another look that said, 'It wasn't that funny', and Alec knew he was being silly. But something about the way Magnus had drawled out the words - something about everything that had happened so far - seemed funny to him, and he suddenly felt just a little more light hearted than he had when he had first trailed up those steps.

"We put the holy water in his gas tank, you know," Alec said, his smile turning to one of smug satisfaction as he looked up at Magnus.

"ALEC. Shut up." Normally, Alec would've blushed, upset with himself for having such an outburst, but he truly didn't care. It was like he was little again and had just pulled off the world's greatest prank on Isabelle. He had always wanted her to know when he had gotten one over on her... even if she did get back at him in the end.

"I assumed that. Vindictive little bastards, aren't you?" But there was no heat in Magnus's voice, and his eyes seemed... amused? Alec couldn't be sure, having just met the man, whether Magnus was laughing at him or with him. For some reason - which didn't make sense to him; the man was a Downworlder - he hoped it was the latter.


	4. Distracted

**Magnus POV** (ariviand)

So he was right on both accounts. The boy was gorgeous, and he frowned too much. And apparently he wasn't much for laughing either – because when he did, everyone in the little group shot him a look of shock and confusion, like they weren't sure they'd heard correctly. Or like he had a temporary lapse in sanity. Was that a laugh or was he choking?

His smile too – while it was undeniably cute, it looked unfamiliar on his angular face. The tiny facial muscles were tense and shaking – which shouldn't be the case on a supple, young face. A shame, that. What was a world without amusement? And pleasure?

Not a world this Downworlder wanted to exist in. He'd rather be a full-on demon living in some hellish dimension than not be able to smile, or laugh at everything that struck him as funny. Or stupid. Because stupid people were amusing too.

But this young Shadowhunter, he wasn't stupid. More a sad case. An altogether too-serious teenager. Was it because he had been forced to grow up too quickly? Because he had, in effect, skipped a proper childhood altogether due to his training? No, the warlock wasn't buying that. The blond appeared to have a sense of humor – even it was more biting and sarcastic. And his sister didn't appear to take herself too seriously.

So Alec – as his friends referred to him, he was a stand-out. The serious one. The breathtakingly beautiful one.

The only one Magnus had any real interest in. The mundane was too…hopelessly heterosexual. And mundane, in the true sense of the adjective. And Jace, while technically androgynously appealing to the eye (which might change with a hair cut and a few more years' growth) was not someone he cared to be in the same room with. Alec, on the other hand, he would just love to coax into another room and get to know.

And the way the otherwise serious boy seemed to soften around him, Magnus had an idea he might even be willing to oblige. This is how teenagers react around someone like they like, Magnus reminded himself. And Alec seemed too young and naïve to know otherwise, to have learned to be coy or keep it under wraps. The nerves and the verbal spewing, and the funny laugh. It made perfect sense.

Alec was attracted to him. Magnus could feel his face warm with pleasure at the thought. Maybe he would have something to show for his efforts, after all – something more than an explosive mess to clean up in the morning.

If he could only tempt the boy away from his mildly annoying friends…

"So is that why you wanted to crash my party? Just to wreck some bloodsucker bikes?" Magnus was trying to not to fixate on Alec's mouth, which was soft and on the verge of smiling. Jace was talking. He wasn't listening.

"…talk to you. Preferably somewhere private."

Buzz kill. He had wanted very much to duck into his bedroom with the dark-haired Shadowhunter – was only looking for a good excuse. Unfortunately, inviting the lot of them along wasn't part of the plan. What couldn't be said right here?

He cocked a brow, displeased. "Am I in trouble with the Clave?"

"No," Jace replied. Magnus already knew the answer. They wouldn't send three minors, a head case, and a mundane to bring in a High Warlock.

"Probably not," Alec replied, before jerking in pain as Jace kicked him. Point made – exceptionally juvenile. And Magnus had nothing to fear from them, in regards to official business. It was something else.

"If you help us," Jace was continuing, "anything you say will be confidential."

_And what are we discussing tonight_? He couldn't possibly imagine.

"And if I don't help you?" Magnus asked, letting his irritation color his tone. This had already grown tedious. He was losing the festive spirit.

"Maybe nothing. Maybe a visit from the Silent City."

The warlock's mouth tightened, losing all humor. The boy sported some serious _cajones,_ coming in here outnumbered by Downworlders and waving threats like that – without backing them up with any sort of formal charge. What is it he was to believe the Shadowhunter was holding over his head?

Maybe he should make an addendum to the next event's invitation. No business mixed with pleasure. Or 'Nephillim not welcome'. Although he might be willing to make an exception for the pretty one.

"That's quite a choice you're offering me, little Shadowhunter." Reflexive kick to those pubescent _cajones_, pointing out his inferior age. Was he even old enough to have facial hair? Or get into a rated R-movie without adult supervision? Not likely. Yet he worked the bravado. Little big man.

"It's no choice at all," the shadowhunter replied, trying to sound ominous and intimidating. Magnus thought smug, as well.

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean," he replied, lifting his chin stiffly.

_Grin and bear it, darling. Get it over with and then you can get back to your party, and blot this little scene out like yesterday's blemish. Maybe hit the drink table and cool your temper._

Trying to get a grip on his irritation, Magnus led the children to his bedroom – waving his wrist in a lazy fashion to open the door a fraction. This wasn't a free show. He gave them just enough room to slip inside, eyes lingering on Alec as he passed by – trying not to look wistful, before following them inside and closing the door securely behind him.


	5. Downworlder

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

Alec could feel Magnus's eyes on him as he entered the bedroom. It was the same intent stare he had felt when Jace had been attempting to "convince" Magnus that he should really consider talking to them. While Alec was used to the stares of Downworlders, they were usually looks of contempt, dislike, or mere boredom. This was... this was none of those, and Alec fought down the blush that wanted to creep onto his cheeks as he felt Magnus's eyes on his back. Why was the warlock staring at him so intently anyway? They'd barely spoken to one another; Jace, as usual, had done most of the talking... and Alec, as usual, had been the one to get the raised eyebrows and tense stares. Jace had even kicked him, which had wiped all traces of a smile off his face.

In his haste to get away from that stare, Alec sat down on the nearest thing - the bed. It was only as Jace began speaking - and Alec was sure the attention was off of him - that he looked around.

The room was... colorful.

And not just colorful but... _colorful_. Alec blinked at the very yellow sheets he was sitting on. (He didn't even know they sold yellow sheets.) His eyes then traveled across the room towards the dresser, gaze wandering over the cans and brushes and... other strange objects that vaguely reminded him of that gunk Isabelle put on her face before they went out somewhere "special." Did Magnus.. did he really wear all that?

A hissing noise from somewhere made him tense, and Alec snapped to attention. Jace stood in front of some rainbow curtains, his lips in a tight frown, eyes narrowed as he gazed at Magnus.

"I don't know any Valentine," Magnus was saying, but Alec thought there was something off about his voice... something not as confident as before. Clearly Jace heard it, too, because he was quick to cut off the warlock's reply with one of his own.

"Someone erased her memories. So we went to the Silent City to see what the Brothers could pull out of her head. They got two words. I think you can guess what they were."

Silence fell around the room, and Alec couldn't help but stare at Magnus once more. He was surprised when the warlock's lips twisted into a bitter smile. He was even more surprised at how uneasy it made him feel, how that look on Magnus's face seemed so... wrong.

He listened as the conversation carried on, surprised that Clary's own mother of all people had attempted to hide her past, her Shadowhunter roots. Alec wondered what that must feel like - to not know about the life he was missing, the memories that were taken from him. But he couldn't envision it; all his life he'd been a Shadowhunter... and he'd be a Shadowhunter until he died. He could think of nothing else he'd rather do... or even could do. Jace had his small talents - the piano, his incredible quick wit and charm. Max was studious and rather bright for his age. And Izzy... he smiled a little at the thought of his sister. She'd never been the kind of person to think of herself in terms of weaknesses.

Alec shook the thoughts from his head, letting his gaze fall back on Magnus and Clary, whose eyes had gone impossibly wide as Magnus revealed more and more information about her past. Well, as much as he could know. There was still the question of why her mother would do something like that. Was she really on the run from someone... from Valentine? But that was impossible; Valentine was dead... right?

"You were there, that day," Clary was saying now. "I saw you coming out of Drothea's apartment. I remember your eyes."

Who wouldn't remember those eyes? Alec thought without heat. Magnus's posture went back to that calm confidence of earlier.

"I'm memorable, it's true."

Agreed, Alec thought, a smile spreading across his lips as his fingers idly toyed with the yellow bedsheets. He was certain he wasn't going to forget Magnus anytime soon. Glitter, blue lipstick, and incredibly tan skin. Not to mention the way he talked about himself... despite the arrogance that laced his voice - arrogance which was well founded, of course... well, there was something in the warlock's voice that made Alec want to listen. Something smooth. Like waking up wrapped in warm sheets... or the way his mother's hot cocoa slid down his throat and spread through his veins in winter.

"What?" Jace's voice rang throughout the room. "Why not? The Clave requires you--"

"I don't like being told what to do, little Shadowhunter," came the reply. Jace bristled. Alec looked to Magnus and saw a light blue glow spreading across the tips of the warlock's fingers. Better to intervene and keep the fighting out of the conversation... and if he knew anything about Jace, the guy was itching for a fight.

"Don't you know how to reverse it?" he spoke up, suddenly. Three gazes locked on him; Alec only realized then how nervous it made him to have all that undivided attention, particularly when the tension was still thick throughout the room. "The spell, I mean."

Magnus's gaze seemed to soften (or was that his imagination?) and the warlock let out a weary sigh. Alec briefly wondered if he had asked a stupid question. "Undoing a spell," Magnus began, "is a great deal more difficult than creating it in the first place. The intricacy of this one, the care I put into weaving it..." Once again, Alec found himself in awe of the way Magnus spoke about his magic. He'd never really conversed with a Downworlder before, but he supposed all of them must be proud of the things they could do, the things other people couldn't. It was intriguing to him, the way Magnus could weave words... could make it seem that his magic was so unique that no one could touch him.

"But I don't want to wait," Clary was saying now, and Alec fought a frown from slipping onto his face at her whining tone. "All my life I've felt like there was something wrong with me. Something missing or damaged. Now I know--"

"I didn't damage you." Magnus's reply was sharp, angry. It was the first time Alec had actually seen him truly seem angry, and he studied the man, noting that there was something wrong about an angry, irritated Magnus Bane. He was ranting now, and his words seemed to fly together in a rush of emotion that Alec couldn't ignore. "When I was ten, my father tried to drown me in the creek. I lashed out at him with everything I had - burned him where he stood." Alec felt his breath catch in his throat. "They say that pity's a bitter thing, but it's better than hate. When I found out what I was really, only half a human being, I hated myself. Anything's better than that."

Silence.

Alec hated it. He hated the defensive posture Magnus had taken, the way Jace seemed unaffected by the warlock's words, and the way that Clary still seemed to be thinking of no one but herself. But mostly, he hated that whatever he attempted to say to ease this new tension, to break the silence... he knew it probably wouldn't be good enough. He'd apparently slept through "How to Comfort a Downworlder 101." (Or was that "Social Skill Basics"?)

"It wasn't your fault," he heard himself say. "You can't help how you're born." While the words seemed trite and insincere to his ears, Alec was surprised at how much he actually meant it.


	6. Dissolve

**Magnus's POV** (ariviand)

Sincere. Another quality he had learned about the dark-haired Shadowhunter in the last half hour. Alec was sincere (as well as unspeakably gorgeous, serious, and not prone to smiling).

Sympathy. That appeared to be what he was offering Magnus, in the way he glanced at him with pity, his pale eyes soft and resonant, and level. Like a sweet little puppy begging to be stroked. Not that he was much of a dog person. But he wouldn't mind cuddling with Alec, sprawled across the canary yellow sheets of his bed, nuzzling and whispering sweet nothings, running his fingers through that unkempt, yet incredibly soft-looking hair…

But he couldn't do that, because he had other company in his bedroom. Not that Magnus wouldn't love to shoo every last one of them back out into the party and lock the door behind him.

He would love to get a moment alone with Alec. The urge was strong. His regret and irritation, however, were stronger (if only because he couldn't have the very thing he wanted – not immediately. Maybe not at all).

"I'm over it," Magnus replied, trying to keep his tone bland. His mind was so far from his own past, it became immaterial. He had to remind himself that there were other people in the room, and moments before, he had been talking to Clary. Before Alec's sweet side-comment.

Damnit. How much longer could this drag on? He wasn't a big fan of leaving his guests unattended. Or having to explain himself to an underage shadowhunter. Or make excuses for his work. Not that Clary didn't deserve an explanation – but as far as he was concerned, that was her mother's responsibility. He wasn't going to take the fall for that one – as the oft-used saying goes, he was only the messenger. He had tampered with her memory, true, but at the urging of her flesh and blood - her legal guardian. He hadn't broken the law.

And maybe it was righteously messed up, that your own mother would work so hard to make you forget your past. Make you forget the essence of who you are. But then again, Magnus couldn't deny that some memories were worth temporarily forgetting. And that's all it was, anyway. A glamour. A temporary fix.

Not, however, something he could undo with a snap. The fact that Clary Fray didn't seem to grasp the complexity of the spell further irritated him. But then, what should he have expected from an amnesiac would-be-shadowhunter, who still thought mostly like a mundane? That she would have a better appreciation for magic? Her basis for comparison probably included Harry Potter and Merlin. And he was far from an old man with a beard. Not that they didn't pack a lot of heat in a sticky situation.

Sigh. He needed to move things along. He wasn't in the mood for a Hallmark channel breakdown. He didn't have experience with consoling teenagers who really needed to speak with a shrink. Or have a real heart-to-heart with their mother. But option A and B not being readily available, he'd have to wing this and rely on her friends to help her pick up the pieces later. Technically, his involvement had ended with the last wipe and they ought to consider this free consult a bonus.

"All right. Listen," he began impatiently, trying to make this short and sweet. No room for argument. "I can't undo what I've done, but I can give you something else. A piece of what would have been yours if you'd been raised a true child of the Nephilim."

Crossing quickly to the bookcase, he extended one slender arm, plucking the Gray Book from the shelf. He ought to have left place-markers to save him time; he was browsing quickly – alternately thinking of the party going on without him outside the bedroom door, and canoodling with Alec beneath his yellow comforter – while absently flipping pages. _Come on, come on_, he silently chanted – would have tapped his glittered fingernails against the book if he'd had a third and free hand to do it with.

Wouldn't that be interesting. Imagine what he could do with a third hand. Hm.

Vaguely, he realized the teenagers were talking. The sound in and of itself was an annoyance – especially Jace's voice, which seemed to predominate the conversation. He really didn't like the blonde.

"Shut up," Magnus said, cutting them off. His time was valuable, and their free consult was almost up. He'd found the right page. Reverently, he set the book down in Clary's lap, hoping she was smart enough to follow suit and handle it with care. Maybe he should have taken more precautions to keep the book child-friendly. Page guards or something. Not that he could have anticipated playing show and tell with the young shadowhunters.

"Now, when I open the book, I want you to study the page. Look at it until you feel something change inside your head."

"Will it hurt?" Clary asked, unnerved. A shadowhunter squeamish of a rune. Well, it was ironic, but then she hadn't been privy to the masochistic training, the constant self-mutilation with a stele. And a long list of work-hazards that he found equally unappealing. He wasn't big on pain, except for pleasure's sake. Fighting demons was not kinky.

The thought of Alec dressed in his leather gear, however, and wielding a pair of seraph blades was kind of hot. Difficult to imagine at the moment, but he'd store that one away for a future fantasy.

"All knowledge hurts," Magnus replied with no apparent sympathy. He couldn't help it; he was impatient. Relinquishing the book to her – with some misgivings, he took a calming breath and let it be. He stood up and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest.

What was he expecting? Something dramatic? Not really. The seconds ticked past, and she was starting to look like an autistic kid staring at a pile of Legos. But then he could see the flicker of recognition. _Good for you. Now we're getting somewhere_.

Then she started turning pages – not with care, mind you, and Magnus could feel his sharp intake of breath. _Careful_, he tried to impress upon her. _You'll rip_—

Magnus wrenched the book from her before that could happen. He'd been charitable enough for one night. Letting Clary Fray damage his only copy of the Book was not part of the bargain.

"That's enough." Closing it, he replaced the book in the gap on the shelf, silently apologizing for the rough-handling. _She didn't know any better. Sssshh. It's all right. You're fine._

Wiping off the film of dust from his palms, the warlock offhandedly explained that reading too much would give her a headache. Not that that had been his primary concern. When it came to his small, precious library, he was not big on sharing. Pretty much everything he made a point of keeping in his room was hands off – which is exactly why Magnus wasn't keen on people barging in uninvited. Or technically unwelcome, as was the case here.

_Except for you, Alec darling_, he wanted to purr, with a brief glance at the boy. Exquisite.

Jace was explaining to the lost girl that the rune for remembrance would make her receptive to the other Marks. Exciting for a shadowhunter on the rise, to be sure, but more importantly:

"It also may serve as a trigger to activate dormant memories. They could return to you more quickly than they would otherwise. It's the best I can do," Magnus replied, not surprised when her lost little expression didn't change. This was the Hallmark moment he had been so hoping to avoid.

But then she brought up the Mortal Cup, and something like interest flared, temporarily overpowering the impatience. So they weren't just concerned with Clary's mental journey. They were after the Cup. It was starting to piece together now, their little mission.

Jace seemed very interested. Was he just using the poor girl as a pawn? There had been nothing useful in her memories, if that's what he was banking on. Too bad, so sad.

"Valentine's looking for it," the blond was saying.

"And you want to get to it before he does?" The warlock asked, wondering how they hoped to accomplish that feat. Or was that where he was really meant to come in? Well, sorry to burst their Shadowhunting bubble, but Magnus wasn't feeling _that_ generous. The Mortal Cup was of no use to him. The warlock wasn't really interested in their little adventure. And then his irritation creeped back in, full force, in his reply.

"Only a fool would get in between Valentine and his revenge," he drawled, glance straying to Jace for a moment. Pointedly.


	7. Discovery

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

"Is that what you think he's after? Revenge?"

Revenge. Vengence. Alec was fairly certain he'd only ever heard of such things in the stories his mother told him when he was very, very little.

"I would guess so. He suffered a grave defeat, and he hardly seemed - seems - the type of man to suffer defeat gracefully," Magnus said. That slip from past to present tense. Alec looked up at the warlock. Did Magnus know more about Valentine than he had previously let on? Of course he does. He lied before, Alec chided himself. The question now was why Magnus knew so much... unless it was common Downworlder knowledge or...

"Were you at the Uprising?"

Magnus's cat-like eyes were suddenly on him again. The discomfort Alec felt was unlike before. Magnus's gaze felt more piercing than appraising this time, and Alec found he couldn't look away.

"I was," the warlock smoothly replied. "I killed a number of your folk."

Shadowhunters? But not all of them were apart of the Circle, I thought, so then why...

"Circle members. Not ours--"

"If you insist on disavowing that which is ugly about what you do, you will never learn from your mistakes."

Alec found he had to look away. He wasn't stupid. He had always known there was something odd about his parents' predicament. The fact they rarely visited Idris, the way his mother's eyes got a little hazy whenever he said the word "home". He had never asked for the truth; it never seemed the kind of thing to bring into polite conversation, and he had always felt the need to protect the people he loved. Perhaps it was his way of protecting his parents from the past, by not asking the questions he, technically, had every right to know.

A thought was bubbling to the forefront of his mind now, something he tried to swat aside... to keep from acknowledging. It made him feel slightly nauseous. "You don't seem surprised to hear that Valentine's still alive," he said in a desperate attempt to change the conversation, fingers playing with the fabric of the yellow sheets while his eyes continued to avoid those of the warlock.

Alec didn't care about Valentine. He cared that his parents may have been in the Circle, may have been closer to Valentine and more involved in the idea of "purging" the world of Downworlders than he had originally thought. He had always felt his parents were strict... but fair. To think they may have also been apart of the prejudice that ripped the Shadowhunter world apart. Alec could only wonder if they still held that prejudice. Maybe they did, maybe it even reflected in the way he acted towards Downworlders. True, he had never really made an effort to interact with them. Isabelle had; Jace had flirted with several Downworlder girls, but Alec...

Why do I even care? What does it matter what Downworlders think of me?

But somehow, under the heat of Magnus's gaze, it suddenly did matter, and he felt the air in the room turn suffocating and his stomach churn with anxiety.

"But nothing the Clave has done has earned my unswerving loyalty either," Magnus was saying now, much to Jace's displeasure. Alec could tell he was about to yell, hurl accusations... hell, Alec supposed he wouldn't even be surprised if Jace attempted to take a swing at the warlock. Alec could sympathize. The whole conversation had made him just as unhappy... but for completely different reasons.

He stood up suddenly, feeling the shakiness of his legs, thoughts still a collective jumble. He reached out a hand for Jace, touching the boy's shoulder. He replied to Magnus's off-handed remark before Jace could open his mouth. "Is that likely?"

Magnus's eyes seemed to glitter as much as his skin. "It's happened before."

"Bastard. Stupid asshole thinks this is funny," Jace muttered, pulling away from him. Alec let go, watching as Jace made his way over to Clary.

"Are you all right?" he could hear Jace ask her.

No, Alec suddenly wanted to reply. I'm not.


	8. Drawn

**Magnus's POV** (ariviand)

Magnus pursed his lips. Clary and the blond could take the touching scene outside. He was done here.

Any longer than fifteen minutes loitering in his bedroom – and without anything worthwhile to show for it, he might have to charge.

Pity he couldn't just lead the others out, shove them if need be, and pause in the doorway - 'oh! I forgot something on the nightstand…be with you all shortly (_don't wait up_)…' Lock the door, lean into it, and turn to smile sweetly at Alec.

'Now, where were we?' He could just imagine drawling, and the way the boy would flush, maybe even sputter in confusion.

Alec had looked so cute sitting on the edge of his bed. He matched the comforter perfectly, that dark hair and those soft, blue eyes. And even his pale skin, his muted black clothing, the perfect compliment. Exactly the accessory his bedspread required.

Maybe he could coax him into joining the throw pillows every night, to complete the ensemble.

Ah, it was too much. Too cruel to even indulge in these fantasies. Magnus realized the unlikelihood of being able to coax the young shadowhunter into anything beyond conversation. Even without the complication of his friends serving as chaperons – even without the prejudice that ran deep among Nephilim towards downworlders, he would be an overly-optimistic fool to think that Alec would be anymore interested in him than wearing pastels.

It just wouldn't work. He was a flamboyantly gay, unapologetically outspoken warlock with no interest in Clave matters or fighting the good fight. And Alec was all about it. Magnus was all for throwing parties, and sex without strings, and collecting designer clothing that came in thin and tall (and all the colors of the rainbow). Again, Alec seemed to be stuck on the complete opposite end of the spectrum.

And yet, he couldn't help staring – couldn't seem to stop imagining what it could be like, if he had the chance. Just a small opening, that's all he needed…just a few minutes to make a pass, to give it a try, to see if the boy was even receptive.

First things first. He needed to get the others out of the way. They were ruining his moment.

Magnus snapped his fingers – no time like the present. "Move it along, teenagers. The only person who gets to canoodle in my bedroom is my magnificent self." He was referring to the outwardly concerned, beginning of a cuddle being exchanged between Clary and Jace. It was repugnant. And so obviously a ploy.

"Canoodle?" Clary repeated, flipping his choice phrase around and making it sound absurd.

"Magnificent?" Jace repeated, just to be an ass. Ungrateful SOB.

"Get out," the warlock growled, having had enough. Full stop. They were very lucky he didn't usher them out of his loft altogether, because – thanks to the blond – they were now seriously wearing out their welcome. He had been impatient before. Now he was cranky and offended. His party was being neglected, and for what? To babysit? And be mocked in the process.

He locked the door behind him, relieved that much was over. Maybe now he could have that drink. Maybe he could find his opening, and persuade Alec into finding a quiet corner to continue their conversation…

Instead, he found himself following the small group of shadowhunters around the room, interjecting side-comments into their conversation, just to keep himself involved and in close proximity of Alec. He could smell the clean scent of his hair, feel the warmth off his skin through the dark clothes. How transparent was it, that he was checking the boy out? And insinuating himself just on the edge of his personal space.

He didn't give a rip if Jace was annoyed by his presence. Did he have much of a choice, having to be around him for the last fifteen minutes? No. Now the blond was just going to have to stomach having a tall, lanky shadow or better yet – he could go. As long as Alec was in no rush to high tail after them.

Magnus moved even closer to the boy when he related to the others what happened with the phouka. The warlock's lip twitched at the reminder. It had been priceless. And now, he was kind of jealous of the faerie, wishing he had somehow managed to beat him to the punch. Without mortifying him, that is. Alec seemed more indignant about the incident now the shock had worn off; that certainly was not the reaction Magnus was shooting for.

As his glance strayed down to the cute, tight seat of the boy's pants, Alec's sister came rushing up – reeking of some fruity mixture, and gasping about rats.

Ah. The mundane had been turned into a rat. Mildly amusing, but again, not his problem. Or his concern.

On the other hand, this might be just the diversion he needed… everyone rushing over to rescue the mundane-turned-rat before someone stepped on him. Wouldn't that be tragic?


	9. Drinks

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

"I'm pretty sure turning mundanes into rats is against the Law." Alec wasn't actually sure of anything at that moment. In fact, the only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted nothing more than to leave the party... and soon. The nauseous feeling in his stomach hadn't subsided, his sister was drunk, Clary's screeching voice was piercing his ear drums, and Magnus...

Alec felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He could feel the gaze of Magnus's eyes on him, even without turning around. That suffocating feeling ran through him again... or was that heat flooding his cheeks? In any case, he was almost positive his face had gone red at the thought of those cat-like eyes piercing through him.

Although, Magnus had seemed to be rather displeased with Shadowhunters in general. Why would he be looking at me with anything other than disgust? Alec reminded himself, wondering why he even cared.

Clary seemed to be physically fighting with his sister now, and Alec moved to pull them apart, but the girls were faster. Clary broke away, heading towards the bar. Isabelle, looking stunned and rather upset, followed. Jace simply shook his head, muttered something like "Girls", and trailed after them. Alec suppressed a sigh. It wasn't the first time Isabelle had gotten drunk, but it was the first time she had gotten so visibly upset over a boy... a mundane at that. In fact, Jace was even going over to help... Jace who never gave a rat's ass - no pun intended - about mundanes!!

Alec looked at the entrance, vaguely wondering if he'd be better off stepping outside for some fresh air. He didn't care about Clary, and he especially didn't care about her mundane.

**Magnus's POV** (ariviand)

"Would you care for something to drink?" Magnus inquired, meaning to play the part of an attentive host, not mock Simon's embarrassing situation. He was grateful for the mundane's stupidity; it was perfectly timed, and ultimately harmless. His small sacrifice would be nothing more than an uncomfortable memory in a few hours - well, there might be a lingering smell. Transition from rat back to boy might not be altogether pleasant. But a soothing hot shower and the boy would be right as rain.

Magnus would have to remember to send him a thank you note. Maybe even invite him to the next party. Provided he didn't ask the others to tag along.

Although it might almost be worth it, to have another sanctioned excuse to see Alec.

Ridiculous, that he was already looking forward to a second opportunity when the first hadn't even played out yet. But there was nothing wrong with making plans and hoping.

"I promise it'll be perfectly harmless," the warlock added, throwing in a small smile for good measure. "I do have the usual suspects. Soda, bottled water. Coffee." He had thought about tempting the shadowhunter with a beer, but he quickly reminded himself that Alec was the responsible one. The only one who kept bringing up the law and the Clave (as a real, moral concern, and not waving it around as a threat). He probably wouldn't appreciate the suggestion of offering alcohol to someone who was underage. Not that Isabelle hadn't obviously indulged. But not at _his_ urging.

So Magnus replaced the offer of beer with coffee, more than willing to procure any of the above at a snap if Alec was thirsty.

Maybe then they could both grab a glass of something cold, and gravitate back towards the bedroom…just to escape the noise. And give them room to breathe.

At least that was the official angle he was hoping to work.

Brows raised, Magnus waited for Alec's response, his body inclined towards the refreshments table as if he were prepared to cross the room and grab whatever Alec wanted, as soon as he asked. He was eager to cater to him – but not so eager to leave. And so it was already decided; he wasn't going anywhere. The drinks were going to have to come to him.


	10. Disappointment

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

"Coffee," Alec replied without thinking. Then, as if suddenly realizing who was talking to him, he blinked up at Magnus in surprise.

"You... well, I... I can always get it myself, that is, to save you the trouble." His eyes flickered past the warlock towards the refreshment table. By the Angel, hadn't Magnus all ready made his opinions on Shadowhunters clear? Not to mention, they had done nothing but make threats against him in his own home so far that evening. Why then would the warlock even care if he wanted something to drink?

_Sarcasm_, Alec thought, nodding to himself. He was incredibly bad at picking up those wry tones in people; he often thought they were serious. Magnus Bane wanted the Nephilim out of his home... _of course_ he was being sarcastic.

"Look," Alec started, turning his eyes to glance at Magnus. "I just wanted to apologize for the confrontation earlier in... your room." _And coming to your party uninvited_. "I'm sure... we'll be out of your hair shortly." Alec choked on the rest of his words. What did one say when apologizing to a Downworlder? 'I'm sorry' seemed like such a pathetic choice of words; it certainly didn't erase the decades of prejudice, mistrust, and loathing between Shadowhunters and Downworlders.

He opened his mouth to say something more, when a thought struck him and he reached into his pocket. When he was younger, his parents would tell him to keep a bit of money in his pocket in case of emergencies. It was a habit that had stuck with him as he grew, and he drew out the crisp, untouched twenty dollar bill and offered it to the warlock. "I know it's not much, but warlocks get paid for their time, don't they?"

**Magnus's POV** (ariviand)

Dark, glitter-encrusted eyebrows shot up as the shadowhunter held out the money in offering. Magnus wasn't sure if he should be insulted or amused. Jace had all but blackmailed him into the situation. Clary had tried to guilt him into it. And now Alec, sweet, serious, sympathetic Alec was offering him a twenty-dollar bill for his trouble.

It struck him as ridiculous and strange. And almost endearing. But briefly. Because he had no interest whatsoever in the boy's _money_. Or his gratitude, really, because what had he actually accomplished, other than some verbal sparring with his friend, and trying to trigger Clary's foggy memory?

The warlock hadn't even expended any energy. Magically speaking. Only patience and time, and all of it he had suffered through in the hope that this moment, this opportunity, would be the light at the end of the annoying tunnel.

No, he didn't want Alec's money. He wanted to see him smile again. He wanted to hear that choking, uncomfortable laugh. He wanted to know what his lips felt like, if they would soften when he kissed them. If the kiss would make him smile.

Or if he would share the same stiff, indignant response he had had for the faerie. Like it was something he had endured because it wasn't worth starting a fight. Something he hoped to forget, and warn the others away from in the future.

No, that was completely wrong.

Magnus realized that Alec was waiting, hand extended with the money, probably nervously debating the correctness of the gesture, waiting anxiously to gauge the warlock's reaction. And Magnus hadn't done much more than stare and muse.

"It's on the house," Magnus finally remarked, his tone flat, sounding almost bored. It was a mask for his disappointment. He only had himself to blame, of course. But after all the fantasizing, he couldn't even coax Alec to accept a _drink _from him. In what possible world had he hoped to persuade him back into the bedroom, for a little nuzzle and necking?

It wasn't even a question of his friends getting in the way. Or his prejudice.

It as all moot, if the boy didn't even _want_ him. That was a bitter pill to swallow.

Magnus was in desperate need of a drink to chase it down with. Ignoring the twenty, he waved his right hand and a long-stemmed glass appeared in his grasp. Closing his eyes, he knocked the drink back in one thorough pass, the glass barely touching his lips and then gone. The burn was exquisite, and he passed his tongue along his lower lip, tasting the last of it.

Now, how many more drinks would it take before he was drunk enough to blot out this disaster of an evening?


	11. Distance

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

It was the wrong move.

It was one hundred percent _completely_ the wrong move.

Magnus had gone back to frowning at him, and his eyes seemed... sad? Tired? Weary, even? Alec jammed the money back into his pocket, flushing with embarrassment, eyes staring at the floor as he contemplated what to do next. Certainly, it seemed just as rude to turn and walk away. Jace would've done that - shrugged and walked off. Probably something like, "You're loss" issuing from his lips. But Alec couldn't do that... mainly, he thought, because Magnus was frowning, and he really hated seeing him frown. It just didn't fit in with his bright colors, his makeup and... glitter.

No, he was determined to fix what he had messed up, even if it meant coming across like an idiot and ignoring the part of his mind that said he was being an idiot for caring about a Downworlder's feelings.

Instead, he looked up at Magnus, determination deflating slightly as he watched the warlock knock back what looked like alcohol. So now I've driven him to drinking? Wonderful.

"Sorry... Magnus." His voice came out shaky, and he felt more than a little odd about addressing the warlock by his first name. He swallowed and tried again. "I'm sorry. About the money. It was thoughtless, and... well... you probably all ready hate us as it is and I..." Oh great. I'm babbling. But he couldn't seem to stop. The words came out in a rush. "I guess I wanted to say thank you. You didn't have to let us in tonight. We weren't really invited, and we ruined those vampire bikes and caused you trouble. But, I know it meant a lot to... Jace and Clary... what you did tonight. So, thank you. And for... offering me a drink." He knew his cheeks were red now. He hoped, somehow, underneath his pointless rambling, that Magnus could sense how sincere he was. "I thought you were being sarcastic after everything that happened... I didn't... know..." he finished, fumbling with the words.

He looked away then, knowing how it all sounded - pathetic excuses, nothing more.

**Magnus's POV** (ariviand)

Fortunately, Magnus had only gotten as far as one drink down when the flood gates broke loose – he would have hated to miss this because he couldn't concentrate on the words.

Granted, the words weren't much more than a nervous tangent and backtracking, but Magnus regarded Alec intently as he went on – and on – still holding the empty glass suspended in mid-air (as if he were debating a refill).

Unbelievably cute. The shadowhunter blushed and stared at the floor. He apologized, which shocked the hell out of Magnus, and what's more, he said his name.

Yes, something so simple – it floored him. The sound of his name on Alec's lips, in that muted, pretty voice. Even all tentative and embarrassed, it made the involuntary smile return. His campaign renewed.

He would have to add that to the list. The desire to kiss him, to make him smile. To have him say 'Magnus' over and over again. Around a sigh, around a smile, around a moan…

Oh, that would be beyond belief. Ambitious, perhaps, but give a warlock a little tidbit, and he'll snatch the rest (and probably relocate it somewhere safe with a snap). It was impossible not to be greedy. Especially this warlock. His hope was renewed, and so Magnus bounced back greedier than ever. And empowered by a single drink.

The glass disappeared from his hand, returning empty to the edge of the refreshments table.

"You don't need to thank me," Magnus clarified, taking a minute step closer, feeling the heat coming off the boy. It had kicked up a notch when he started talking. "And I don't hate you." He thought about putting extra emphasis to the word 'you', to stress that Alec was the one he wanted. The only one he could stand for more than five minutes.

Instead, he tried to express as much with his stroking glance, his stance – leaning slightly forward, but not encroaching upon the boy's personal space. Not without permission. And certainly not while he was down. That would be taking advantage of the situation.

Magnus wasn't interested in the campaign unless Alec was willing and aware of what was happening. And then it would be all the more sweet when he gave in. Magnus's lazy glance passed over the boy's flushed face, his angular cheeks, the line of his jaw, clenched now as he looked away.

He wanted to look down into Alec's pretty pale eyes, and he couldn't accomplish that if he was playing hard to get. Magnus sighed, lifting his hand as if to guide his chin back toward him – but stopping short. Because that was strictly against the rules he had just set for himself.

"Did it mean anything to you?" Magnus asked, still watching his face.


	12. Digress

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

Alec felt more than saw when Magnus moved closer to him. His first instinct was to take a step back, but he held his ground, raising his eyes to meet the warlock's. Those cat-like eyes seemed more intense than ever, and Alec wondered what Magnus saw when he looked at him. He didn't think he was _that_ interesting to look at, but maybe that was just the way he looked at everybody. (Although, deep down, he knew that to be a lie. Magnus didn't seem like the kind of person to waste his time on anything he thought was boring.)

But the question cut him off guard. What was he talking about? Alec racked his brain for an answer, but nothing seemed to click.

"Are you... talking about the coffee?" Again, Alec knew it was an utterly stupid response. Why would Magnus care about the coffee? But it was the only thing that seemed like it might have meant something to him. After all, he could've cared less about Clary's memory loss, even though he did feel a bit of sympathy towards her situation.

**Magnus's POV** (ariviand)

"Yes, because I'm incredibly concerned with the coffee's feelings," Magnus replied, teasing him. One adjective he had not thought to use to describe Alec was dense. But completely misunderstanding him like that – well, maybe he could write it off as being too distracting and throwing the boy off. Rather than blame it on stupidity.

Magnus was willing to give Alec another chance; an opportunity to make up for the slip.

Not that the shadowhunter didn't still have his complete attention, his interest undiminished. It _was_ kind of cute. The way Alec's eyes crinkled with confusion, the self-conscious warmth that had returned to the surface of the thin skin stretched across his sharp cheekbones. Magnus was enthralled by these little details, lips parting in the silence that followed, his darkly-ringed eyes scanning the boy, enjoying the entire package while he still had the chance.

He wasn't just an attractive face, after all. Alec's body – which Magnus didn't doubt was perfectly toned, marked, and finely scarred (he had seen shadowhunters before, beneath their gear), was subtly outlined by the clothes he wore. His tall, wiry build – while not reaching Magnus's striking height, still gave him the look of a quiet, slinking cat. A panther, maybe. A quiet, purring panther.

If he wasn't so tense and timid around the warlock, Magnus could just imagine the power the boy could wield, just by commanding his slender body to move to his will. That was a different sort of magic; the spell of a beautiful young man, completely unaware of his own appeal. That sort of naiveté was irresistible.

And Magnus certainly wasn't doing anything to fight the pull of desire he felt for the boy. He let it overwhelm him, compel him. Without taking another step closer, he relaxed his body above the waist, watching Alec with a lazy, admiring stare.

If Alec was a purring panther, then he was a languid lion.

"I just wanted to get it over with," Magnus admitted, deciding Alec deserved a frank explanation for his impatient behavior before. He didn't require the boy's gratitude – but he was curious what Alec truly thought of him. Seeing as how his assortment of talents didn't extend to mind-reading.

"I was hoping to have a moment alone with you."


	13. Distract

**Alec's POV** (Miyabita)

Alec was really tired of blushing. Really, _really _tired. But Magnus's teasing seemed to have that affect on him, and, as much as he fought it, his cheeks felt warm again. Not to mention that the warlock wasn't even trying to hide his obvious perusal of Alec's person.

If Alec was a different person - Jace, perhaps - he would have openly stared back, probably even with a hint of challenge in his eyes.

But Alec _wasn't_ that kind of person. He liked routine and neatness and the way the wind felt on his skin when he was chasing after a demon. He wasn't too keen on marking himself, but when Jace did it, it didn't seem so bad. He liked keeping a low-profile, unlike Isabelle. Isabelle would've liked Magnus... the makeup, the glitter, the somewhat ostentatious outfit. Isabelle was into that kind of stuff.

Alec would've never claimed to be shy or self-conscious or even lacking in self-confidence.

But sometimes he was... like now, with Magnus so openly staring at him.

_Maybe it's because you're afraid_, some voice in the back of his mind accused. _You pine after Jace and stay in the background, because you're afraid of what everyone would say if they ever found out..._

Alec clamped down on that part of his mind. He was being _weak_. Weak in front of a Downworlder he had just met, who was only _looking_ at him. He jutted his chin out a little, his eyes raising to meet Magnus's head on.

And then the warlock said he'd wanted to speak with Alec alone, and, once again, Alec felt his determination falter. Magnus had wanted to be alone with him? Why? They had only just met.

_You know why_, came that same part of his mind that had accused him of being afraid earlier. He politely told that voice to shut up.

But it wouldn't, and Alec felt that familiar bubbling sensation in his stomach. It wasn't the same as the nauseousness that had gripped him earlier. This felt more like... butterflies? Anxiousness?

And couple with that... the biting sensation that someone else knew his secret. Someone he had just met. Was he so obvious to everyone? Maybe Jace even knew. The very idea made him feel cold. Jace couldn't know. It would... well, Alec wasn't sure what he would do if Jace ever found out - die of humiliation, maybe? - but he did know he didn't want to ruin whatever he had with Jace now... the closeness they had. Even though sometimes, at night, he'd wonder what it would be like between them if Jace ever knew and reciprocated...

Alec shook the thoughts from his mind, glancing back up at Magnus, who was staring at him expectantly. Magnus's eyes felt different from Jace's... piercing, but considering... like they were probing parts of his mind and soul, trying to figure him out. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it did make him feel a little uncomfortable and...

Special.

Alec was surprised at his revelation, but knew it to be true the moment the word crossed his mind. Magnus wasn't looking at anyone else... he was looking at Alec. Just him. As if the rest of the party didn't exist. He'd fought beside Jace for years, and he'd never looked at Alec like that. It made him feel important, almost powerful... more so than normal. He wondered why someone who had only just met him would look at him with such intensity, like he was special, and not as if he were simply... Alec. Alec the Shadowhunter. Comfortable with black clothing and a crossbow.

It sounded so plain next to the "Magnificent Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn." And once more, he wondered what the warlock saw when he looked at him... what kept him looking? And what made him want to converse with Alec alone. He opened his mouth, possibly to ask that very question.

"Hey, are you flirting with my brother?" The voice came from his left, and Alec jumped a little. Isabelle was standing between he and Magnus, her hands on her hips, mouth set into a disgruntled frown. She was gazing between the two of them with varying degrees of interest. Part of Alec welcomed the interruption, the part that didn't take unnecessary risks or welcome change. Part of him wanted to push her away, the part that was intrigued by Magnus, that was curious to know what his name would sound like coming from the warlock's mouth.

And then another part of him was preparing for extreme mortification at the hands of one drunk Isabelle Lightwood. His sister could be quite obnoxious when she went to these little parties and had one too many.

"You are, aren't you? You're checking out my brother!" She was grinning now, her hands clapped before her, as if the thought of him being hit on by the tall Downworlder delighted her immensely... and maybe it did. Isabelle always had been looking for ways to help him.

"Izzy," he interrupted before she could go any further, "is there something you needed?" This reminder seemed to make her scowl again.

"Stupid Jace sent me to get our host," she snapped with a pointed glance at Magnus. "It's not my fault Simon's a rat. I told him not to drink that stuff, but he was being stupid... like Jace." She turned to Magnus then. "My brother's not stupid, though. He's nice. You'd like him. Except he's a little one-dimensional at times, so maybe you wouldn't."

Alec's blue eyes were impossibly wide, his cheeks flushed with scarlet while his mouth hung open in surprise. Only the Angel knew what Magnus was thinking, but Alec... Alec was wondering if strangling his sister in front of a bunch of Downworlders was as appropriate as he hoped it was.


	14. Drinking

**Magnus's POV** (ariviand)

Magnus continued to stare at the shadowhunter, Alec Lightwood, for as long as it took Alec to consider and respond. As the seconds ticked on and he watched the different emotions play over his face – and finally, that beautiful blush, the warlock enjoyed the preview. He didn't have to pretend that he wasn't staring – because Alec was staring too, and that was perfectly acceptable under the circumstances.

The interruption, however, could not have come at a worse time. Magnus was so sure Alec was about to reply, had watched with delight as the boy's generous lips parted and he seemed to breathe in, and Magnus reflexively leaned closer to hear whatever he might say—

When the reek of fruity alcohol and hot skin alerted Magnus to the presence of his sister, standing between them. He straightened up, eyes lazily shifting to the dark-haired girl. She was attractive, like her brother, and like him, she had a pale tracery of scars across her neck and arms. Even more, he was sure, along the rest of her body beneath her party clothes.

He wondered where Alec was scarred, and what shape they took, and how they would feel beneath his hands…

Damn. Just when he was starting to enjoy himself, of course the rest of the _charming_ company would barge in. Magnus should have considered the possibility earlier, and made an effort to take Alec aside. He wasn't sure if the boy would have been willing, but if he'd had more time to work on him—

"Hey, are you flirting with my brother?"

The warlock's lip twitched. So it was that obvious, even to an inebriated teenage girl? Well, he hadn't taken pains to make it subtle. Especially since Alec didn't seem very receptive to subtle. Had he even recognized Magnus's attempts for what they were? Even if he had been following Alec's every move with his eyes since the moment they'd been left alone.

That sounded vaguely disturbing. No wonder the shadowhunter was stunned into silence. It's not every day you're devoured by a Downworlder's eyes, before the proper introductions have even been made.

And he had a suspicion the boy wasn't used to being looked at very close by anyone.

"You are, aren't you? You're checking out my brother!" Isabelle Lightwood persisted. Magnus wanted to sigh. What did she want?

But Alec intervened. "Izzy, is there something you needed?" Magnus was thrilled by his tone. Maybe he wasn't the only one irritated by the distraction. Maybe Alec was a lot more interested than he'd given the reserved shadowhunter credit for.

Could he be so lucky? He hadn't cast a spell for luck in centuries – they always had a way of backfiring. It could get ugly fast. But if he had, and Alec was the upside of the spell, his companions were definitely the unintended side-effect.

"Stupid Jace sent me to get our host," the girl replied angrily, her face contorted. Magnus assumed the expression wouldn't look quite so wrong if she hadn't been drinking. No one looked their best under the influence. It was part of the reason he'd started enchanting his make-up after applying it. One glance in the mirror at running eyeliner and smeared lipstick was enough – he remembered it with horror.

Magnus was pulled from his distraction when the girl turned to him again. "My brother's not stupid, though. He's nice. You'd like him. Except he's a little one-dimensional at times, so maybe you wouldn't."

Magnus indulged in a half-smile, not glancing in Alec's direction, although he could feel the heat coming off of him. He assumed it was embarrassment. It would fit.

"I find that unlikely," he drawled, referring to the last part of her description. Magnus already knew he wasn't stupid, that he appeared nice, and that he most certainly liked him. It was exactly why he wanted to stay here and get to know him, to prove that he wasn't 'one-dimensional'. But he couldn't probe beneath the surface with his tipsy sister hanging around.

So he'd better deal with this, so he could get the chance again. Smiling regretfully at a red-faced Alec, he headed back with Isabelle over to the little shadowhunter huddle, where everyone was peering curiously (or in Clary's case, sympathetically) at a rat-Simon.

Magnus couldn't help but chuckle. She was so worried, as if the boy had been hurt in some way. This was probably the most exciting night of his mundane-life. Granted, there were more appealing forms to be turned into, but at least he had a chance to see the world from a different angle. Like Alice and her trippy adventure, only he didn't have to wait so long for his return to normal.

"_Rattus norvegicus_," he pointed out, unimpressed. "A common brown rat, nothing exotic." How fitting. Magnus vaguely wondered what sort of rat he might have made?

"I don't care what kind of rat he is," Clary Fray snapped at him. "I want him turned back."

Selfish and pushy. That was how he would the describe the teenage girl, from what he had seen tonight. You would think she would be more grateful, especially when she was asking favors like they were going out of style. He didn't expect to be reimbursed.

"No point," he considered, sounding bored with the notion – just to get at her. Coupled with Jace's agreement, it had the desired effect.

"NO POINT? HOW CAN YOU SAY THERE'S NO POINT?"

Unphased, Magnus explained: "Because he'll turn back on his own in a few hours." More's the pity. "The effect of the cocktails is temporary. No point working up a transofmration spell; it'll just traumatize him. Too much magic is hard on mundanes, their systems aren't used to it."

Besides – he silently added – I'm not in the mood. He tried to scan the room for Alec on the sly, wistful. When Clary persisted, asking if he could reverse the spell, he simply said no. No, he couldn't. And no, he wouldn't.

The angry commotion at the door intervened before this business could continue, and annoying though it was, Magnus was grateful to let her mourn over her rat-friend without trying to lay the blame on him anymore.

"Excuse me," Magnus said, not that they deserved politeness. Still, ever the attentive host, he excused himself from one party while heading over to pacify another.


	15. Distinguish

**Alec's POV** (miyabita)

"I find that unlikely," Magnus had said.

Alec stood in shock, even when the warlock had offered him a small smile and turned to follow his sister, who had also looked at him with a, "Well, aren't you coming?" glance and a casual toss of her hair. He couldn't bring himself to follow them just yet because his mind was still trying to process what had just happened.

Magnus found it "unlikely" that... what, exactly? Isabelle had made two points. One, he was one-dimensional. Two, Magnus probably wouldn't like him. If Magnus found the former unlikely, than it probably meant nothing. Maybe he was just being polite, trying to get a reaction out of Alec... like with all that staring. (He still wasn't sure what all that had been about.) But if it was the latter...

Alec's face felt warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly realizing that he was in a crowd of Downworlders and the only people he knew were over on the other side of the room. He hurried over to them, wondering what Magnus _possibly _could have meant. What if he really _had_ meant the latter? They had only known each other for an hour! How could the man - only the Angel knew how old he really was - who had seen so much in his life possibly have any interest in someone like him? After all, Izzy was right. He did have a tendency to be a bit "one-dimensional".

_But look at it this way_, his mind replied, _you won't be forgetting Magnus Bane anytime soon either, will you?_

As much as the thought annoyed him, Alec knew it was true. He also knew that it perplexed him to no end. He knew absolutely nothing about the man except that he wore endless amounts of glitter, exuded confidence and sexuality without pause, and had done something to close up Clary Fray's mind temporarily. Magnus was hot, there was no question about that, but Alec had been raised to look _beyond_ appearances. He _had_ to, really. Demons and Downworlders used glamours and disguises; almost no one could be trusted from outward appearance alone. And so, while Magnus did appeal to him on some physical level, it certainly wasn't the man's looks that was causing Alec so much internal confusion. He'd stopped to appreciate men before when he thought no one else was looking. (Not to mention Jace...)

No, there was something else, something Alec couldn't put his finger on, and it bothered him. He stood a little ways away from his family, Clary, and Magnus, watching as the warlock calmly dealt (or casually, depending on one's point of view) with Clary's screaming. Alec had an urge to shake her or smack her, anything to get her the hell out of his hair. She yelled at Izzy, Jace, and now Magnus. All over her little mundane friend who had decided to tag along. They really should have told the kid "no" to begin with, but both Isabelle and Jace had told Alec it would be "interesting" when he had initially protested. Fine, interesting. Whatever. Clearly, those two had different definitions of interesting than he did. Alec found the whole thing highly annoying.

He made to push through the remainder of the crowd and walk over, when another set of loud voices reached his ears, this time coming from the opposite direction. A crowd had gathered near the entrance to Magnus's apartment and it looked like several Downworlders had gotten into a very _heated_ disagreement. Alec internally groaned. He didn't want to be here when a Downworlder fight broke out. Certainly, he wasn't afraid of them - he was fairly confident he could hold his own in a fight - but, really, his job was to handle rogues, not mediate petty arguments.

He was so caught up in watching the fight unfold, that he nearly jumped when he felt fingers briefly caress the back of his neck. There and gone. He turned, prepared to take out a seraph blade out of his back pocket, but stopped, his eyes widening as he stared into familiar yellow-green eyes.

Magnus Bane was looking down at him again, grinning.


End file.
